


Slender Hips And A Swollen Belly

by Durrant



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Bottom Arthur, Developing Relationship, M/M, Mpreg, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 14:45:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Durrant/pseuds/Durrant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames and Arthur celebrated the success of inception together with an evening of drinks and meaningless sex. </p><p>Four months later Arthur finds out he is pregnant. He is not quite prepared for Eames' reaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slender Hips And A Swollen Belly

The phone rang long after Eames had gone to bed, the shrill rings cutting through the still African night and jarring him awake. He didn’t bother to get up, reaching for the phone on the bedside table. So he was already lying down when his knees went weak as he understood what Cobb was yelling at him. Arthur was one of the small percentage of men that could become pregnant and he was carrying Eames’ child.

* * *

The phone rang just as he walked into his hotel room. Eames had known it was Arthur despite the withheld number, was so sure that he was ringing to confirm payment that he almost didn’t answer. He knew that would annoy Arthur, if he remained a loose end, maybe even forcing Arthur to come to his hotel room to tell him about the payment for inception in person. 

He had answered and it was Arthur. Lovely Arthur of the slender hips, who hadn’t cared to discuss payment at all.

“Mr. Eames?”

“Arthur, darling, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Have you checked into your hotel yet?”

“You mean you don’t know? I’m disappointed, I had hoped you were keeping a closer eye on me than that.” Arthur, who never really responded to his flirting yet never seemed particularly annoyed by it, sighed. If Eames were forging Arthur he’d use that sigh to show he was unsure about something, and, considering quite how much time he’d spent observing Arthur, he was pretty certain it would be a near perfect forge. That was the moment that Eames realised he might actually have a chance with Arthur after all.

“Arthur, you know, we should be celebrating. Why don’t you come round? Bring us something to drink, and I hear the room service here is delightful. We’ll reminisce and toast our success.”

There was another of those uncertain sighs, but this one was a lot softer.

“Alright, I’ll be there in 30 minutes.”

* * *

Eames had not been intending to get Arthur drunk, but he’d been distracted from how much they were getting through. Arthur had his feet up on the table in front of him, his long, thin legs slightly bent and as Eames drank it became increasingly difficult to look away from them. The expensive fabric gathering in strange places and calling out to Eames to put his hand out and smooth out the creases.

“Cobb’s probably at home already, I saw Mal’s dad in the airport. Came to get him. Take him back to the kids.”

“Well, it’s been a long time since he last saw his children. There are many things that you can begrudge the man, but hardly that.”

“Yeah..yeah..God he risked our lives,” as nice as it was to hear Arthur acknowledge any fault in Cobb this was not what Eames wanted to discuss. 

“A toast, Arthur, to inception,” he said, raising his glass. They touched glasses and Eames took a large sip of the rather nice Talisker that Arthur had brought with him. Arthur downed his, like a Philistine.

“Tut tut, darling, you have to savour it. Try to do better this time,” Eames said, pouring out more scotch, “to being pioneers!”

“To being pioneers!” Arthur dutifully echoed, and gulped back half his drink. He did not seem to be capable of savouring the taste as he spluttered, his face going red and eyes watering. Eames hurried to get him a glass of water.

“How the hell can you sip that stuff?!”

“Practice, dear Arthur.”

“I have noticed, you know.” Arthur’s shirt had come untucked, the loose material bellowing slightly as it was held down by his tight waistcoat. 

“I fear that alcohol does not make you eloquent, what have you noticed?”

“The way you look at me sometimes.”

“And yet you came to my hotel room, wanting to drink together.” Eames knew he shouldn’t have said it, but drunk Arthur was a delicious mystery, his hair increasingly tousled and so different to its usual perfectly coiffed self. Eames was perfectly happy to get drunk and enjoy Arthur’s company without forcing this into anything else. Without even hinting at the number of times he’d wondered what it would be like to kiss the man.

Arthur stood, his face determined, and quickly turned away from him. Eames only let his eyes fall to Arthur’s magnificent arse, so beautifully framed in the ridiculously tight tailored trousers that he favoured, for a second before standing and calling after him.

“Arthur, we’re drunk and we’re telling jokes, don’t get in a strop.”

Arthur giggled, a small tinkling sound that Eames had never heard before and knew instantly that he would never forge, it was too delightful to share. 

“In a strop,” he echoed, still giggling.

“Come here, Mr. darling Eames,” he continued still giggling to himself as he turned away from Eames again and walked towards the bed. Eames felt his gut clench in sudden realisation. Arthur was drunk, willingly getting into Eames’ bed and telling Eames to join him, it should be perfect. The problem was that Eames knew that Arthur wasn’t really drinking to celebrate inception, he was drinking because Cobb was an ungrateful shit who didn’t care that Arthur had dropped his entire life to follow Cobb into exile. Eames knew that a better man would say no, but then Arthur started undoing his waistcoat and Eames knew with absolute certainty that he’d be whatever kind of man he’d have to be, in order to get into bed with Arthur.

Their first kiss was chaste, a brief touch of lips as Arthur confirmed to himself that Eames was not about to reject him. Then Eames reached one hand up to Arthur’s cheek, rubbing his thumb in the exact spot where those dimples would form every time he gave a genuine smile. He doubted Arthur would ever let him touch again, and he needed to touch him everywhere this once. Needed to remember all of Arthur. He pushed his hand into Arthur’s hair, messing it up, memorising the feel of it.

He put his hand on Arthur’s hip and pushed him down onto the bed, nuzzling into his neck and showering him with little kisses and bites. Arthur moaned flatteringly, and moved his head further to the side, offering up more of his throat for Eames’ attentions.

Eames slowly unbuttoned the rest of his waistcoat and the shirt beneath, licking at each, newly revealed, inch of skin, biting softly at the slender muscles. Until finally his shirt was unbuttoned and Arthur was whining softly and trying to thrust his hips up at Eames.

“Patience, darling,” he told Arthur as he undid Arthur’s belt and slowly pulled his trousers and underpants to his knees. Eames bent down to rest his head on Arthur’s thigh, burying his nose into Arthur’s balls and inhaling a lungful of the delightful musk that was pure Arthur. He mouthed one of the balls in front of his face gently with his lips. He ran the tip of his tongue up the centre of Arthur’s ball sac and up the thick vein on the underside of Arthur’s cock, before giving the head a soft kiss and pulling away to take off Arthur’s shoes and strip him of everything but his shirt.

Arthur gazed up at him, still sprawled haphazardly over the bed, his lips red and his pupils wide with lust. He had never looked more lovely to Eames.

Eames pushed him onto his stomach and gathered Arthur’s shirt in his hand. With the cuffs still buttoned Arthur’s arms were trapped. Eames held his shirt tight, pulling it back towards him, forcing Arthur to come up onto his knees and present his bare arse to Eames.  
“Eames, what are you -”

Arthur’s protest was cut off as Eames swiped his tongue over his tiny, pink, puckered arsehole.

“Fuck, Eames! Eames!” Arthur yelled as Eames pushed his tongue inside him. Arthur screamed out his name again and began thrusting his arse back into Eames’ face, calling out his name with each thrust. 

Eames leaned back, pushing Arthur round and onto his back. Arthur looked wild with lust as he lay there, still pumping his hips into the air, desperate for more. Fetching the lube Eames searched for a condom, the clattering drew Arthur’s attention. 

“It’s fine, we’re both clean...I checked, before,” Arthur gasped out breathlessly, “just come here and fuck me.”

Eames stripped off his clothes and jumped back onto the bed. He lubed up his fingers and stretched Arthur as gently as he could, when he was two fingers deep Arthur spoke again

“Fuck Eames, why didn’t we do this before? You feel so good,”

There was no way that Eames could answer that. Just then, everything seemed so perfect that he couldn’t remember why they hadn’t fucked before. Instead of answering he spread the lube onto his cock and slipped into Arthur’s tight heat.

As he waited for Arthur to adjust he kissed the line of Arthur’s jaw, nibbling at his earlobe as he pinned Arthur with his cock.

“Move, Eames!”

With maddening slowness he pulled out and pushed just as slowly back in, but Arthur wouldn’t let him continue to take his time. Arthur tightened his legs around Eames’ waist, pulling them sharply together so that they both gasped in surprise.

“Faster, please faster!” 

Eames obeyed, pounding into him suddenly and making Arthur scream his name in that gratifying manner again. Arthur’s mewls of pleasure became lost as Eames fucked him hard, until finally he felt Arthur come. His cock untouched and his arse clenching, holding tight onto Eames’ cock, until Eames was coming too. Pouring himself deep into Arthur. 

They lay side by side panting; Eames trying not to fall asleep and Arthur looking perfectly fucked.

Eames woke up alone. It was, after all, what he had expected but he had hoped, nonetheless, that Arthur would stay till morning.

* * *

Four months later, Cobb finished yelling and hung up. Eames was on the next flight to L.A. before he even thought to check his totem.

* * *

“You shouldn’t have come, you’re not needed here! One fuck does not make you a father!”

“Technically, darling, that’s exactly what makes me a father. May I come in?” 

Arthur crooked his head grudgingly, and didn’t move aside as Eames sidled past him into the house. Close to he could see a slight swell to Arthur’s belly and a tan on his cheeks.

“You look glowing, pregnancy suits you.” Arthur pursed his lips as if Eames had just insulted him, and stalked away leaving the front door open. Eames shut the door and followed him, however angry Arthur was he’d let Eames inside and wasn’t immediately telling him that he was getting an abortion. This was significantly better than he’d been expecting.

“I don’t know why you’re here. I don’t need you and you’re definitely not welcome.” 

“I do deserve the right to be part of this pregnancy, and part of my child’s life.” Arthur’s eyes widened and his fist clenched and unclenched spasmodically. 

“I didn’t think you would want to..I didn’t..” Arthur’s anger seemed to disappear, and he sat down quickly, his hand rubbing at his eyes. “What do you want, Eames?”

“To be a father, Arthur, I want to be a father.”

It was, Eames reasoned, the truth. Of course he’d always wanted to be a father, but not enough to find women attractive, and not enough to search out one of those few men who could conceive and throw himself into a relationship with someone just because they had a certain biological quirk. Of course he wanted to be a father, but having Arthur be the other father was the best thing that had ever happened to Eames.

* * *

Eames drove Arthur to his first obstetrician’s appointment, although Arthur refused to let him come further than the waiting room. 

He sat nonchalantly skimming magazines about the joys of male pregnancies, until finally Arthur returned. His tanned face unusually red, and his nostrils flared; stress, Eames concluded. Surely it was too early to have any information about the foetus? Cobb had called Eames about an hour after Arthur had bought a home pregnancy kit.

“How did it go?” Eames congratulated himself on how well he hid his panic as he asked.

“Fine, let’s go”

Arthur sat in silence on the drive home, and didn’t comment when Eames followed him into his house.

“I have chloasma.” Eames wracked his brain for knowledge about any dangerous conditions affecting pregnant men, but his mind was entirely blank.

“It’s called the mask of pregnancy, thats why my face looks weird, it doesn’t go away until after the baby is born!” Eames was torn between laughing at how insignificant that seemed and exploding in anger that he had just spent the last twenty minutes scared out of his mind for no reason. He opted for diplomacy.

“You still look lovely.” Arthur looked rather skeptical and subtly put his hands on his belly. Eames was sure that his beautifully tight waistcoats would no longer fit him. He was still wondering how to articulate that Arthur would always be handsome, without sounding either soppy or insincere when Arthur spoke again.

“They’re doing blood tests, to see if there’s anything wrong with him, genetic abnormalities..”

“Him?” The word stuck out to Eames, a little buoy of joy on the sea of Arthur’s roiling fear and stress.

“Probably. Male pregnancies are statistically more likely to produce boys,” Arthur rattled off. Eames nodded calmly, as if he hadn’t just been told he was having a son, and asked when the blood test results would come back.

“Monday, same day as the ultrasound.” A week away, Eames’ treacherous mind supplied him. In a week he would see his son. Maybe he should be as worried as Arthur obviously was about these tests, but quite suddenly it all became a lot more real than it had been before.

“Arthur,” Eames said softly, knowing how ridiculous he sounded, but not bothering to restrain himself, “we’re going to have a son.”

Arthur snorted inelegantly.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Eames.”

“Then you’d better hope he inherits your intelligence.”

Arthur stared at him, his whole body seemed to be shaking.

“Oh God, Eames, our son.” His shaking continued as he threw himself into Eames arms, hugging him close so that Eames could smell the product in his hair as it tickled his nose.

“I didn’t even know I could get pregnant,” Eames made a cooing noise in his ear, rubbing circles into his back. It was always so easy to see calm, unflappable Arthur that Eames just wanted to hold onto this vulnerable version of Arthur and protect him from the world.

“You have to fuck me.” Eames’ back stiffened, he had thought that he’d jump at any chance to bed Arthur, certainly he took advantage the last time Arthur offered. This time Arthur was practically in tears with the stress of this unexpected pregnancy, so emotional that it would be wrong.

“I regret that -”

“Eames, I’m pregnant with your child, don’t be a hypocrite,” he said, nuzzling into Eames’ neck and kissing the skin there softly. “You did this to me, now -”

But the rest of his argument was lost as Eames leaned back and kissed him full on the lips, slipping his tongue into Arthur’s eager mouth.

Arthur reached down, palming Eames hardening cock through his trousers.

“Fuck, I’ve missed your cock.” Arthur told him, making Eames growl with desire. He had spent four months wanking to memories of his time with Arthur. The taste of Arthur’s lips, the taste of his arse, the feel of Arthur around his cock.

Eames dragged Arthur through a door that he had assumed would lead to the bedroom. Instead it took them to the kitchen, but Arthur didn’t complain as Eames shoved him down onto the kitchen table and used the olive oil from the counter as lube.

As soon as he pushed into Arthur’s beautifully tight hole he knew he was going to come soon, he had been fantasising about this for months. He wrapped a hand around Arthur’s lovely cock, wanking him in time to his thrusts into his arse.

“Eames!” Arthur yelled as he came, his back arching and his fists clenching onto the sides of the table. His knuckles white and his eyes screwed shut.

Eames came quickly, against his will, he wanted to stay inside Arthur longer. Wanted to stay inside him as long as he could. Arthur pushed him off as soon as Eames came.

Arthur stayed lying on the tabletop as Eames tucked his softening dick away.

“You should go.”

“Darling, I must say, you’re making me feel a little cheap.” Eames said with an entirely fake smile, one he knew was good enough to fool Arthur. 

“It was just sex, just like last time.” Arthur said, standing up and taking off his clothes, clearly intending to shower. Eames nodded and didn’t say anything. Didn’t say that he wanted more than sex, that he wanted to stay and that he really didn’t want Arthur to shower and stop smelling of him.

* * *

In the week that dragged past as they waited for the test results Eames rented a flat. He settled in, bought some painting supplies and tried to think of reasons to phone Arthur. 

“Arthur? I was calling to ask if you wanted a ride to the doctors again?”

“Uh, sure, yeah.”

“Excellent. How are you feeling?” 

“Uh, fine..”

“Good, good. I was wondering if there was anything you need?” Eames had now worked through his entire list of questions, and Arthur was silent for a worrying amount of time.

“I’ll think about it. Bye, Eames.”

* * *

This time Eames was allowed past the waiting room, although he was sat in the corner of the doctor’s office. Arthur’s body language clearly telling everyone to ignore Eames. The obstetrician apparently didn’t notice and made eye contact with both of them as she gave them the all clear from the blood screening results.

The ultrasound was surprisingly emotional. It was definitely a boy, although Eames was entirely convinced that the nice young lady was lying when she pointed out various body parts. Everything was a jumbled blur, not that that stopped him from getting a print out and a copy on CD. 

Eames stopped at his flat on the way back to Arthur’s, inviting him up for a cup of tea. Arthur accepted and entered with an air of unconcealed curiosity.

“You’ve really made yourself at home in just a week.”

“Yes, well,” Eames bit back some corny remark to do with how long he intended to stick around. He knew that Arthur wouldn’t believe him anyway, that Arthur didn’t really believe that he wanted this child.

“I wanted to give you this,” Eames said, handing over a painting, it was a rather shitty watercolour of the view from Arthur’s house at sunset. He had only done it to practice using watercolours after not painting for so long, it belonged in a corner somewhere to be slowly forgotten about. 

Then, once they’d been in the car, he hadn’t wanted to just drop Arthur off and leave. Not after just seeing their son for the first time. So he gave him the painting.

“Thanks, this is really good,” Arthur said, looking down at the picture, Eames realised incredulously that he was being serious and decided to paint more things for Arthur. Things that actually were really good. 

“Well, sit down and I’ll put the kettle on.”

“Uh no, I’d better get back. I’ll get a taxi from here.”

“Alright, but you know sometime soon we’re going to sit down and discuss baby names.” Arthur stiffened almost imperceptibly, 

“Now isn’t the best time, I should get going. I’ll see you next week for the doctors appointment.” Arthur called out, almost out the door before he’d finished speaking.

“Arthur, I’m here to be involved, please. Please, let me be. Let me do more than just drive you to the obstetrician.”

The indecision and uncertainty on Arthur’s face was amazing, Eames had never really seen Arthur’s mask of calm self-assurance slip so completely.

“I..I’ll let you know,”

It was not much of a concession, but Eames was silent as Arthur left.

* * *

This time the phone woke him up from a rather lovely afternoon nap.

“You said you wanted to be involved.”

“Of course,” Eames answered, his voice still groggy from sleep, but his brain snapped to attention at such an obvious test of his sincerity. Arthur told him he was having cravings and wanted a chocolate taco sold in a particular bakery downtown.

An hour later he got to Arthur’s house. Arthur opened his front door and took the box from his hand before even saying hello. Instead he looked strangely torn, as if he weren’t sure whether to thank Eames or not.

“Come in. I’ll, uh, make you some tea..Thank you for bringing these.”

“You’re welcome, did I pass the test?” Arthur just groaned at him and ushered him into the sitting room. His painting had been hung on the wall, the focal point on an otherwise empty wall. Eames was oddly touched, but had no idea if he should say anything and draw attention to the painting. Instead he sat in silence while Arthur made him a horrible cup of tea. The tea bag was still in the cup, and the milk sat cloudily unstirred at the top; it was, Eames reflected, hardly a surprise that so few Americans drank tea when they made it so badly. 

Arthur sat down next to him and began inhaling chocolate tacos. Eames sipped his tea, trying to avoid getting a tea bag up his nose.

“How are you?”

“Fine,” Arthur spat out reflexively, between bites of taco, then paused and looked back at Eames, “I am fine, I have a new..symptom. I keep getting itches, on my hands and my feet. It’s fine when my hands itch, but its frustrating when my feet start itching and I’ve got shoes on.”

“Would you like me to help scratch them?” Eames asked, which gained him a look of surprise so extreme that he might as well have grown an extra head. Arthur took another bite of taco and actually chewed. He swung his feet up onto Eames’ lap.

“Okay..It’s just the soles that get itchy.” Arthur said, trying to sound commanding, but Eames could hear the wariness in his voice. As if he expected Eames to suddenly say no, he might want to be involved in the pregnancy but scratching Arthur’s feet was too much effort.

Eames scratched long strokes into the soles of Arthur’s feet, digging his short nails into the flesh so that it really would scratch, and not just tickle. It hurt his nails, but Arthur slowly relaxed and started tilting his feet, trying to get Eames’ fingers into the right places.

“Have you been doing more painting?” Arthur asked suddenly. Eames smiled broadly, that was possibly the first personal question, without ulterior motive, Arthur had ever asked him.

“Naturally. At the moment I’m making a copy of the ultrasound photo, I thought I’d add some colour to it,” Arthur nodded vaguely in response, “And you, are you keeping busy?”

As soon as he said it Eames knew that Arthur was up to something he didn’t want him to know about. Arthur had always been a terrible liar, terrible at concealing any information, as his face always became completely blank. As if, despite all the years he’d spent working in dreamshare, he still thought that it was wrong to lie. It was, Eames reflected wistfully, terribly sweet.

Arthur stared at him blankly.

“Yeah, keeping busy”

It only took Eames twenty minutes of switching between gentle probing and annoying badgering to understand that Arthur was working point on a job based in L.A.

“So, you took a job very close to home. Chance-y. They must be paying you a pretty penny, or you wouldn’t risk it.” Eames reasoned. Arthur licked his lips, a preparation to reveal a nasty truth, Eames knew; he knew quite a few nasty truths that had followed Arthur licking his lips like that, except, before, those truths had been about some aspect of the job.

Eames didn’t let him say it.

“The money is to go to ground somewhere, a fresh start for you and the baby. Were you going to tell me where you had gone?”

“Yes, I was going to tell you. I’ve involved you this far ”

Eames knew what Arthur’s idea of hiding out was and thought of his son safely tucked away in some suburban corner of the U.S. How often would Arthur let him see the boy? How foreign would the boy became? Growing up in a world Eames had only glimpsed in other peoples dreams. This was not what he wanted, but for now the most important thing was to make sure Arthur had not done something too stupid by taking this job.

“I hate to be pedantic, but you haven’t involved me this far. If Cobb hadn’t called me would you ever have told me you were pregnant?”

“Look, I don’t intend to hide your child from you!” Arthur said, his voice raised, but all his strength seemed to be gone. Poor, lost little Arthur, Eames thought, for all his apparent self-assurance he had never really been alone before. He had been adopted by Mal and Cobb, and then clung desperately to Cobb after Mal’s suicide. Finally, here was Eames’ chance to persuade him to be with Eames instead. 

To leave Cobb behind, self-centred Cobb, who Arthur had trailed around the globe after, like a lost puppy. Cobb who had never really valued this amazing man sitting in front of him.

Eames felt a shot of fear, there was always a chance that all this would fail. He wanted a son, and a family, so much and the sudden fear that everything would fall apart hit him like a punch to the stomach.

Fear must have made him brave, because he leaned over and kissed Arthur.

* * *

He got a place on the team. Arthur called Eames his consultant and told the others he would pay him out of his own share. Of course Arthur hadn’t liked the idea at first, but hadn’t seemed inclined to argue against Eames wanting to be there just to be close to the baby, and that he would not actually expect any payment.

While it was true that Eames did want to be close to the baby, or more specifically, close to Arthur and his increasingly large belly that made him waddle slightly, that was not his only reason for wanting to be involved in the job. 

The extractor was called Halder, a thug of a man, who Eames was utterly convinced had sold out his entire team last year. Unfortunately he didn’t have enough proof and he knew if he tried to persuade Arthur to quit the job Arthur would think he was being overbearing. So instead he spent his days sat at the desk next to Arthur’s and limited himself to distracting Arthur from his work only once every hour. That, Eames thought proudly, was what a gentleman would do. 

So when Arthur said, one evening as they were both staying late, that he felt fat and ugly, Eames knew it was his duty to push Arthur onto the desk and fuck him.

* * *

Time passed, measured in fortnightly trips to the doctors.

Eames followed Arthur to work and sat sketching Arthur. In the evenings he painted or he conned tourists out of a few hundred dollars a time. 

As wonderful as it was to be close to Arthur, Eames hated L.A. It was, he concluded, a place as entirely lacking in imagination as Arthur was, except Arthur’s lack of imagination was rather charming. L.A. was just stifling.

* * *

The next time they fucked was three doctor’s appointments later and two nights before the job.  
Eames pressed his hands into Arthur’s back, gently stroking him as he sank his cock deep into Arthur’s arse and slowly fucked him into the massive pile of pillows supporting Arthur’s stomach.  
Arthur’s voice was muffled as he began chanting that litany of Eames’ name that Eames loved to hear. He grabbed Arthur’s hair, pulling his face out of a pillow, just so he could hear it more clearly.

“Eames, Eames, please, Eames,” Arthur chanted, his voice becoming more ragged as his orgasm approached.

When Eames finally came he bent down to put his chest to Arthur’s back, to wrap his arms around Arthur’s chest and hold on as his hips pumped his come into Arthur.

He didn’t pull out afterwards, he just rolled them over so they both lay on their sides. Arthur was already asleep as Eames kissed his hair and held him close. They had never slept together before and as he lay there Eames planned the breakfast he would make Arthur in the morning.

It was Arthur’s phone that woke them up an hour later.

“That was Kim, he said there’s something wrong with the somnacin. Looks like it’s been tampered with, except the only person who could have got to it is Halder.” Arthur told him, obviously dismissing the chemist’s concerns as a late night mistake.

Eames knew it wasn’t. This was how things went bad on Halder’s job last year. Eames forced himself to calm down and explain this to Arthur in a way that he would think was rational, that he wouldn’t immediately shoot down as Eames’ paranoia.

“You know, Halder was on a job last year where - ”

“I know. Christ, Eames, I did do some research before I took the job.”

“Then you know that the first sign anything was wrong was a problem with the somnacin.” Eames knew for a fact that Arthur did not know that, because while Eames was pretty sure that was what had happened he did not know that for sure. Arthur chewed his lip indecisively.

“Just phone the chemist back and get some more information.”

When Arthur phoned Kim back it was Halder who answered. Eames doubted that Kim was still alive, but didn’t mention that to Arthur as they packed their things and got ready to flee.

Arthur agreed to meet him in Mombasa.

* * *

Life in Mombasa settled into a routine with astonishing ease. Arthur seemed to tire easily and would spend his afternoons sitting on the balcony of Eames’ colonial house. He’d take his shirt off and sit in the shade, feeling the hot breeze on his belly. 

He would visit Yusuf every few days and come home with stories of whichever girl Yusuf fancied that day. He joined a group for expectant mothers that met in the local church hall. He found an obstetrician at the local hospital and their life resumed its regular pattern of fortnightly check-ups.

They shared a bed. The house was large but there was only one bed and neither of them suggested buying another. They didn’t touch in bed. Eames would look across at Arthur as he slept and wonder at how difficult it was just to reach out his hand to him

The doctor’s appointments were upped to once every week.

* * *

As he stood in front of the house he could see two figures in the sitting room; Eames chose to come in, silently, through the back door.

He padded softly until he stood, unseen, behind the door, listening to the end Cobb’s speech.  
“- come home, Arthur, come back to LA. You don’t have to stay here with him, it’s not a choice between doing this alone or doing this with him. Move in with me and the kids, we’ll raise the baby like their little brother, we’ll get legal work, it’ll be like a real family.”

“Like a real family? As opposed to the actual family that I have here. Cobb, I know you’re only looking out for me, but...We finished inception and you got your family back, maybe that’s what I want too.”

“But Eames! He’s a con man, he’s a great man for a job, but thats it! You’re suddenly in love with him because he knocked you up?”

There was a silence that lasted too long and Eames had to stop himself from shifting uncomfortably.

“I know it’s not the best way to start a relationship; he is a good man, Cobb, and I’m giving him a chance.”

“And while you’re giving him a chance you’re messing up the life of your son.”

Cobb, Eames mused, had always been an obnoxious, self-centred prick. He silently padded back to the front door, opening and closing it loudly so that the others would think he had just arrived. Painting on a rather charming smile he strode into the sitting room.

“Cobb! This _is_ a pleasure.”

* * *

Arthur had long been in bed by the time that Eames finally got away from Cobb; so he was surprised to find Arthur wide awake and apparently waiting for him.

“We’ve been here for weeks and he’s only just decided to see if I’m alright.” Eames gave a one shouldered shrug, after being berated by the man for the past hour he was no mood to say a good word about Cobb.

“You’ve been here, all this time. I kept on thinking you were going to leave, you know, I never even expected you to come to L.A.” Eames bit back a comment about Arthur’s perpetually low expectations of him, he could see a whole speech had been planned.

“I always thought you were attractive and intelligent, but today I realised that you are a good man.” Arthur finished, looking up at him like he had said something profound. Eames didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was wrong. He knew he was not a good man, that it was only for Arthur that it was worth being good. If he were a good man he wouldn’t know, with such surety, the lengths he would go to keep Arthur and the baby safe. How he longed to kill Halder for endangering both of them.

“Will you hold me?” Arthur asked, timid in the face of Eames’ silence. Eames smiled and wrapped his arms around Arthur, until, eventually, the two of them fell asleep in each others arms.

* * *

Cobb stayed a few more days; fussing at Arthur and ignoring Eames. 

Eames struggled not to gloat, not to feel like the victor. Arthur had chosen Eames over Cobb.

The two of them had never been lovers, but Arthur had given up so much of his life to this man, and now Cobb was leaving alone and Arthur was staying here with him. 

* * *

Arthur went into labour a week early. They were already in the cab, driving to the hospital for that week’s appointment. Eames gained more respect for the hitherto unsuspected levels of efficiency that Arthur possessed.

Eames stood next to Arthur as they cut into him, a sheet blocking the gore from Arthur’s view. If he ever needed to forge somebody being eviscerated he now had plenty of material.

The nurse put a tiny, bloody creature into his arms and Eames fell in love. He wasn’t sure when he started crying, but this little thing was the most beautiful, most perfect thing he had ever seen and he was awed that Arthur created it.

Later, they were taken into a different room. The baby was cleaned up and Arthur sewn back together but still woozy. Eames was not entirely sure how much time had passed, except that now he was holding onto his son and could look down at his little alien features without crying at the sheer wonder of it. Although his eyes were suspiciously damp, he supposed that for this occasion it was probably excusable.

“Eames,” Arthur called to him, his voice tired and rough, and Eames gently placed the baby in his arms.

“I was wondering, about names. What do you think about Henry? It was my father’s name.”

Arthur didn’t look up, but he nodded and murmured the name to the baby as he stroked his cheek. 

“Yes. Yes, Eames, I think it’s perfect.”

* * *

Arthur and Henry came home from the hospital two days later.

The nursery that Eames had cobbled together was inspected. The antique cot that he had found at the flea market, and had restored in secret was approved of.

Arthur finished his short tour of the new nursery with one of his precious, dimpled smiles.

“You have a lot more childproofing to do. Things are alright for now, but once he starts walking..”Arthur trailed off, biting his lip nervously. 

This was Arthur asking how long he could stay. Poor, insecure Arthur, who didn’t realise that Eames would do anything to be near him.

“Arthur, I do love you, I loved you before Henry, I just never thought I had a chance.” Eames told him, Arthur blinked slowly, his surprise palpable.

“I..I fell in love with you slowly,” Arthur told him shyly. He smiled that particular dimpled smile that meant he was telling a truth he thought he should be keeping secret.

“Eames, you make me happy.”


End file.
